Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Clemmie’s excitement bubbled over as the Bentley hummed smoothly through the countryside, bringing her closer to London with every passing mile.
Soon they were driving up a secluded road lined with ancient trees whose canopies provided dappled shade.
With the window open, the fresh air filtered into the car, offering a lovely breeze.
‘Are we nearly there?’ she finally asked the chauffeur, unable to contain her curiosity.
‘We’re almost there.’
The car slowed down and turned onto a long, winding driveway flanked by iron gates, each adorned with an intricate crest that Clemmie recognised as the royal insignia.
With an almost regal grace, the gates swung open as though by magic, and the Bentley glided forward.
Clemmie’s heart quickened as they passed into the estate, nestled in the midst of a sprawling expanse of countryside in all its untamed glory.
Rolling hills and lush green meadows stretched out before her.
The estate was a breathtaking blend of natural beauty and regal elegance.
She caught sight of deer grazing serenely beneath a canopy of ancient oaks, and rabbits darted playfully between bushes, their fluffy white tails flickering like tiny lanterns in the undergrowth.
As the Bentley ascended a gentle hill, Clemmie caught her first glimpse of Royalwood Cottage.
Her eyes widened. It was like something out of a storybook.
The lodge was an old stone manor, its exterior weathered but timelessly elegant.
Ivy climbed its walls in graceful tendrils, and the windows, framed by charming wooden shutters, glowed softly in the waning light.
The roof was steep and gabled, with clusters of chimneys poking out like the turrets of a miniature castle.
Surrounding the lodge was a perfectly manicured garden bursting with roses, lavender and peonies.
‘Oh my goodness,’ Clemmie murmured. She could hardly believe her eyes. The lodge radiated history and charm.
The Bentley came to a halt in front of a grand stone archway adorned with ivy and flowers.
Clemmie stepped out, the gravel crunching under her feet as she looked up in awe at the ornate wooden door.
It was framed by carved stone, its design intricate and regal, with a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head.
Her suitcase was gently placed beside her, but she barely noticed, her eyes too busy drinking in the scenery.
‘Welcome to Royalwood Cottage, Miss Rose,’ the chauffeur said with a slight bow. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’
Clemmie thanked the chauffeur as she clutched the handle of her suitcase, her fingers trembling slightly as the grand wooden door creaked open. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw who was standing in the doorway.
Oliver.
He looked as handsome as ever, dressed in attire that struck the perfect balance between casual elegance and countryside charm: a tailored tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and dark trousers that fit him with the kind of ease that suggested they were made just for him.
His boots, polished yet practical, hinted at a man accustomed to striding across grand estates and cobblestone paths alike.
‘Welcome to Royalwood Cottage.’ He moved towards her and kissed her on both cheeks.
The brief contact sent a jolt through her body.
‘You live here?’ she asked with awe.
‘I wish! No, we’re just guests for the next couple of days.’
‘For a moment I thought you were going to tell me you were a secret undercover royal.’
He laughed as he picked up her suitcase.
‘It’s beautiful, like something out of a film.’
‘Let’s get you inside so I can show your around. My guess is you’re probably hungry, and thirsty, too.’
Clemmie nodded and followed him through the front door.
Inside, the cottage was even more breathtaking. The entrance hall was spacious, with polished wooden floors and a grand wooden staircase. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.
The decor was a perfect blend of opulence and homeliness.
Plush armchairs upholstered in rich velvets and tapestries were arranged around a fireplace, and shelves lined with antique books hinted at hours of cosy reading.
Fresh flowers beautified every available surface, their fragrance mingling with the faint, comforting scent that was seeping through the open window from the surrounding garden.
‘Let me show you your room.’ Oliver gestured for Clemmie to follow him.
She nodded, trailing behind him as they ascended a grand staircase with a polished wooden banister.
The corridor at the top was lined with oil paintings of pastoral landscapes, wildlife and foxhunts, each frame gilded and ornate.
The soft glow of antique wall sconces lit the hallway, casting a golden tinge over the patterned carpet beneath their feet.
When they reached her room and Oliver pushed open the door, the first thing Clemmie spotted was the four-poster bed that dominated the space, its mahogany frame intricately carved and draped with cream linen trimmed with delicate lace.
A velvet quilt in a deep emerald green was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, adding a touch of homely charm.
The wallpaper was a soft blush pink with dainty floral patterns, giving the space a nostalgic feel, and heavy velvet curtains framed the tall windows, which offered a breathtaking view of the gardens below.
On the dresser, a crystal vase held freshly cut roses, and Clemmie inhaled their soft fragrance.
Next to it, a tray gleamed with delicate macarons in pastel shades, and a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket beside two crystal flutes.
A delicate china teapot sat nearby, accompanied by a printed card that read, Welcome to Royalwood Cottage. We hope you enjoy your stay.
Clemmie crossed the room towards the window. She pushed it open, letting in the afternoon air. Outside, the gardens sprawled as if in a painting, with perfectly manicured hedges, bursts of vibrant foxgloves and a small stone fountain gurgling softly in the centre.
‘Wow,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve never stayed anywhere like this.’
‘You have a bathroom through there,’ Oliver said, pointing to a door off to the side. ‘Clean towels, and all the essentials. I’ll wait for you in the sitting room. Take your time, settle in.’
Clemmie turned to him, her cheeks slightly flushed. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, completely in awe of the space.
Oliver’s smile lingered before he closed the door gently behind him.
Clemmie stood in the quiet room, taking it all in.
After a moment, she crossed to the bathroom and gasped.
It was like something out of an old-world cottage, reminiscent of spaces she’d swooned over on Instagram.
The freestanding clawfoot tub sat proudly in the centre of the room, with a gilded mirror hanging above a vintage-style sink.
The walls were painted in a soft sage green, with exposed beams overhead that gave it a rustic charm.
An old-fashioned perfume pump and a collection of glass jars filled with bath salts and soaps were arranged neatly on a wooden shelf.
The tiled floor, with its intricate blue-and-white pattern, added a touch of whimsy to the space.
She couldn’t wait to share the moment with Betty. Pulling out her phone, she quickly opened FaceTime and called her granny. Betty’s face appeared on the screen almost instantly, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
‘Clemmie! There you are! How’s it going? What’s it like?’ Betty asked, her voice bubbling with curiosity.
Clemmie spun the phone around, giving her a virtual tour of the bedroom. ‘Look at this, Granny! The bed, the roses, the view… and wait until you see the bathroom.’
She walked into the bathroom, holding her phone steady as she panned the camera around. ‘Look at the tub! And the tiles! Oh, and this,’ she said, focusing on the dressing table with its silver hairbrushes and mirror.
Betty clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. ‘Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful! I can’t believe it. You deserve every bit of this!’
‘Thank you.’
After hanging up, Clemmie sank onto the plush four-poster bed, which was a masterpiece of comfort, with soft linens that felt like she was sinking into the clouds and a thick quilt she couldn’t resist wrapping herself in.
She flopped back with a happy sigh, thankful that her hangover had almost disappeared in the excitement.
She waggled her feet in the air like a carefree child and giggled at herself, feeling giddy with the sheer luxury of it all.
This was a far cry from her cosy yet modest room above the café back home!
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the window a second time, inhaling the fresh air.
A sudden melodic chirping drew her attention to a branch of the tree outside the window, where a robin was delicately perched.
Its bright red breast and inquisitive black eyes made her heart skip a beat.
It hopped onto the windowsill and looked straight at her.
Clemmie froze for a moment, mesmerised by the little bird.
A wave of emotion washed over her as she thought of her family.
Despite hailing from Puffin Island, each and every one of them had always harboured a soft spot for robins.
‘Hello, you little charmer,’ she whispered softly, smiling. ‘Granny always said you were the messenger of good tidings.’
The robin tilted its head, as if it understood her words.
It chirped again, a series of bright, cheerful notes that sounded almost like a conversation.
For a few minutes, she watched the robin, feeling a sense of calm and connection that was almost otherworldly.
Then, with a final trill, the robin fluttered away, disappearing into the trees.